


What Washington Saw

by Arrowsinthenight



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: First Time, M/M, Teaching, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrowsinthenight/pseuds/Arrowsinthenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington is caught staring in the shower, though he denies it.  York and North take him under their wing, so to speak.  Smutty hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enjoying The View?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to a lovely anon's request over on the RvB Kink Meme, I was inspired (read: bludgeoned by plotbunnies) to write this. It's unbeta-ed, so if there are any typos (there shouldn't be, but I am posting this whilst ill so I may have missed some!) please let me know and I'll hit them with a brick.

“Hey, Wash.”  
  
He squeaked. An honest-to-God squeak of mingled surprise and alarm that could well have come from a pre-teen schoolgirl. York was leaning against the wall, barely two feet away, arms folded, smirking. Why was it he always managed to look so relaxed? Even when he was stood there wearing nothing more than his scar and that smirk.  
  
“Hi – uh – York.” Washington was relieved he'd managed to locate his vocal cords, concerned that they might have been disconnected somehow by the sight of just how  _good_ York looked when he was wearing nothing more than his scar and that smirk. At his slightly stuttered greeting, that smirk grew.  
  
“Enjoying the view?”  
  
“What!? I – uh – it's not – I mean – I wasn't -”  _Oh God, where was that sentence going?_  Wash desperately tried to find a conclusion to the stumbling noises leaving his lips, but honestly had no idea where “It's not” or “I mean” or “I wasn't” were even going. York chuckled, pushing himself off the wall in a movement that would have been feline on anyone with less muscle mass. On him, it looked marginally dangerous and inherently sexy.  
  
 _Oh God. Shut up brain._  
  
“It's not what it looks like?” York suggested, as Wash shook his head slightly (partly to deny absolutely everything and partly because he was having trouble focussing on anything other than York's naked body). “You weren't...staring?” He continued, smirk widening.  
  
 _Is it possible to die of embarrassment? Because I think that's on the cards right about now._  
  
“I – no – no I wasn't – wasn't staring.” And the stutter had returned. Wash was pretty sure that he wouldn't have enough time to fill up the shower tray and drown himself before York reached him, and off the top of his head he couldn't think of another method of suicide whilst naked in the shower.  
  
 _Oh fuck I’m naked._  
  
The thought made Wash  _feel_  the blush explode across his face, leaving his head pounding very slightly. He groped for a towel, managing only to get the little hand-towel he always left on the side for the inevitability of shampoo getting in his eyes. The towel he had been meticulously placing whilst doing his best to sideways-watch two of his fellow freelancers making out. He'd had a moment of some pleasant mental imagery, eyes glazing over slightly, before he'd been brought back to earth quite thoroughly by the sudden appearance of one of said fellow freelancers.  
  
“You weren't staring? I’m disappointed. Hey, North. Wash says he wasn't staring.”  
  
“He wasn't?” North's mildly amused voice came from somewhere behind York, but Washington was having trouble focussing on something that  _wasn't_  York's chest. Or his crotch. “It certainly looked like staring.”  
  
“But I-” Wash was sure he was going more red, especially as York gave him the least subtle once-over he had ever witnessed.  
  
“The towel isn't doing much,” the other agent said mildly, and he bit his lip in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. There was no other towel in the cubical with him; he'd been so distracted by what York and North were getting up to that he'd not gotten round to getting one. And to get one  _now_ , he'd have to do some sort of walk of shame past them both. Which totally wasn't happening.  
  
“Uh, York, is there – uh – something you wanted?”  
  
 _Wow, a full sentence. Go me. I should get a cookie. Or something. Oh God why can't I stop staring at him?!_  
  
“Well, now you mention it...” York glanced over his shoulder, some sort of unspoken communication going on between him and North that made Wash both jealous and confused in one fell swoop. Whatever wasn't said happened quickly, and then York was looking at him again and Washington found it harder to concentrate on  _I have got to get another towel_. Whatever wasn't said had changed York's expression from mildly amused to something a lot darker. “There  _is_  something I wanted.”  
  
“Uhh...” It was more of a sound than a word, Wash's mouth dropping open a little and refusing to close as York stepped even closer, North just behind him. He was effectively trapped between three walls and two freelancers, and he licked his lower lip, trying to find a way of putting into words “This is really rather hot but also very confusing so if you could please explain what's going on in five-hundred words or less I would really be very grateful”, but all he managed was another, “Uhh...”  
  
York chuckled, stopping roughly an inch away, so close that Wash had to tilt his head up just a little in order to look at something other than York's crotch –  _Because for God's sake I shouldn't be staring at his fucking crotch!_  – and so close he could feel York's breath on his lips. Wash felt like holding his own breath, irrationally scrabbling to remember when he last cleaned his teeth.  
  
“Wash.” York spoke softly, his voice somehow lower than usual. Washington couldn't quite access his vocal cords this time around, and instead managed a shaky sound which might, in some universes, have been a “yeah”. He gulped, daring to meet York's eyes (well, eye), and found himself almost completely unable to move. He'd always thought York had nice eyes (as well as nice...other places...) but he'd never really been quite that close to look at them. It was just the one eye now, the other whited-out with scar tissue, but the one that still had colour was grey, a sort of cloudy, stormy grey that made Wash think back to quieter times before the Project when he had time to himself and he storm-watched.  
  
“Wash.” York repeated his name, and Wash wondered how the hell a single-syllable word – of something that was technically just his  _name_  nowadays – could make him shiver. But it did. And he was pretty sure York had noticed. “Relax.”  
  
Washington opened his mouth again, once more trying for a sentence. Any sentence would do, even the rambling disconnected one he'd had earlier. Instead of that, he got York's lips on his.

 

 


	2. Well, I Wasn't Expecting That

On the list of  _Shit Wash was expecting when he woke up this morning_ , 'getting kissed by York' was so far off it wasn't even registered, and for a moment all he could do was stand there thinking;  _Well, I wasn't expecting that._   He could never be accused of being quick on the uptake, and for a brief moment all Wash could do was stand there, not moving, as lips that were surprisingly soft pressed gently against his own.    
  
It was only when he felt the pressure ease, and York begin to move away, that he had the presence of mind to respond.  It wasn't particularly suave, and in the back of his head Wash cursed his lack of experience.  He'd always been so focussed on getting through school and college, and into the UNSC, that he'd not really had time for anything but homework and his hand at the end of the night. One awkward fumble at that party that time did  _not_ an experienced Washington make.  
  
He was quite breathless when York finally did pull away, and  _damn the man_  he was smirking again.  Wash wanted to feel insulted and get angry, but all he could manage to feel was flustered and incredibly turned-on.  He opened his mouth, once more attempting to find his vocal cords, but was interrupted by York.  Ever-so-lightly, the other freelancer placed his finger over Wash's lips.  
  
“You don't have training tomorrow, do you?”   
  
For a moment, Wash just stared at him, his mind a whirl of hormones and  _what the fuck does training have to do with anything?!_ And York canted his head to one side, that smirk still on his lips.  
  
“Pretty sure you don't.  And trust me, you won't want to be working out after the – ah- workout North 'n' I’ll give you.”  
  
The words went all the way through Wash, straight down and back up, and he forgot how to breathe for a second.  Just before his vision fuzzed out completely, he managed to jerk his head from side to side, and hoped York understood that meant that no, he didn't have training the next day.  It was one of the very rare days off he got.  
  
“Good.  Thought not.” York grinned.  “So.  Come on.” He turned and headed back out of the shower cubicle, pausing to kiss North lightly.  
  
“Wha-?”  _Good fucking God that was a word!  Well, almost a word anyway.  Do I get half a cookie for half a word?  Or is that two thirds?  It's nearly a full word anyway...  Oh God brain SHUT UP!_  
  
Wash really wasn't sure what to do, but he was most certain he didn't want to be just standing in the shower, hardly-hiding his erection behind a tiny hand-towel, whilst North and York made out again.   _Not that that hadn't been incredibly hot..._  
  
“You won't want Maine or Wyoming to wander in here whilst we're busy, do you?” York queried, the grin he had been wearing turning into full-blown laughter as Washington squeaked and spluttered and went steadily more crimson.  
  
“York, I don't think  _any_ of us want Maine or Wyoming to walk in on us,” North said mildly, giving the other agent a gentle shove.  “Don't tease him.”  
  
“Aw c'mon North, look at his  _face_.” York protested, and Wash felt a pout threatening.  North shook his head, giving York another shove.    
  
“Don't tease him.” He repeated, and smiled at Washington, who wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to that.  “Assuming York hasn't completely freaked you out, Wash, we might want to move this to somewhere more comfortable.”  
  
“I – yuh – uh – I...”  _Oh for fuck's sake..._ Wash wondered if there was enough time to perform that drowning suicide he'd debated earlier.  He was immensely grateful when North didn't laugh, but instead threw him a towel.  He was also immensely grateful he  _caught_ the damn thing.  
  
“Get dressed Wash,” North told him, doing a better job of ignoring the naked York leaning on his shoulder.  “I'm sure you don't want to walk the halls wearing nothing.  As good as that looks on you.”  
  
“I – what?” Wash's brain derailed briefly, only coming back online as York chuckled and pulled on a pair of trousers ( _Not wearing underwear?  That is...way too hot..._ ) and a t-shirt.  North shook his head and began getting dressed himself, either not noticing or not caring that Wash was staring, mouth slightly open.  Pulling himself together as best he could, Wash located his clothing (if not his ability to form full sentences) and after scrubbing his slightly damp feet dry, dressed, trying to ignore the fact his trousers were marginally uncomfortable.  
  
He looked up from tying his laces to see both York and North watching him, and found his trousers were suddenly  _much_ too tight, and he swallowed.  York was leaning on North again, both men looking relaxed and comfortable, but expectant.  Washington wondered if he was making the right decision.  
  
“C'mon Wash.” York straightened up, and held a hand out to him.  Wash looked at it, then at at York, who was giving him the sort of look he had previously only ever seen on posters and in porn films, and he felt his insides do a triple backflip to land somewhere in the vicinity of his groin.  He gulped, audibly, and York's lips twitched into a much darker version of the smirk he had been wearing previously.  
  
“York, I swear to God, if you scare him off you're going without for a week.”   
  
“A week!” York's voice jumped up an octave, and Wash found himself chuckling slightly, unable to help it.  He cast a glance at North, who gave him a sort of lop-sided smile that made him shiver again, and look back at York's hand, which was still extended towards him.  
  
“A week.” He heard North confirm, the blonde freelancer's voice as calm and even as it always seemed to be, though Wash knew he wasn't imagining the undercurrent of sexual tension in it.  
  
 _I don't think even **I’m** that inept..._  
  
He gulped again, then took York's hand, and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.  He briefly wondered when it was that York had got quite that strong – he didn't remember that strength from sparring – then stopped thinking entirely as he found himself backed up against North, York's lips on his again, body pressing against him.  
  
There was definitely something to be said for being slightly shorter than both York and North.  Wash found that he fit incredibly well between the pair of them, someone's hands (he thought North's) on his waist, bits of body he could identify but wasn't sure if he dared think too much about pressing into him.  He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, but it seemed he didn't have to worry about that, because York was pulling away and he was so disappointed.  
  
“Buh-” Wash was pretty sure that wasn't a word, but he didn't care.  He was also beyond caring that York was smirking  _again_.  
  
“C'mon.” He said, pulling him forward slightly so Wash was no longer pressed into North.  “Let's go.”


	3. You Spent Most Of Your Time Staring At The Tiling

The walk back to the barracks was nothing short of terrifying. Washington was convinced that everyone they passed – from the Councillor to 479er to North's damn twin sister – knew where they were going and what they were going to do when they got there. The smirk South threw them didn't make things any easier on him, and Wash was genuinely thinking of bolting for his room, the small shower, and 'dealing' with matters himself. Maybe North and York knew what he was thinking, because they moved a bit closer when they reached the narrow metal corridors that made up the way to their rooms.  
  
“Yours or mine?” North asked York, and Wash felt like his head was spinning at how  _natural_ the question sounded from him. It probably wouldn't have sounded so normal coming from, say, himself, or even York. North just managed to make even things like  _going to someone's room for sex_ sound perfectly reasonable.  
  
“Yours. Looks like South's out, anyway.”  
  
“She's got training this afternoon.” North smiled. “I think she's trying to beat my score with the shotgun again. Well, come on Wash.” He gently nudged the younger agent towards a door, and Wash stared at him a minute, all the arguments for why this really probably wasn't the best idea actually and maybe he should just go back and shower rising and dying at the look in the usually-mild blue eyes. 'Mild' wasn't the word Wash would have used for the look North was giving him, and so he just nodded, and stepped into the room.  
  
The door clicked locked behind them, though before Wash had a chance to begin panicking again, York had pinned him against it and was kissing him, so he decided against panic and went with returning the kiss, body relaxing against York's. He shut his eyes, finding that with lack of sight came a heightened sense of touch. He could feel the scratch of York's t-shirt against the patch of his throat exposed by the fact he'd stretched the neck of his own out when he caught it on the doorhandle of the wardrobe. He could feel the cold metal of the door against his back, cooling his skin though his top, the feeling combining with the kiss and making him shiver.  
  
He felt dizzy, not from lack of oxygen (although he noted that might be a possibility since he wasn't planning on breaking the kiss, and didn't look like York was, either) but from the rush of sensation. He found his hands knotting in York's t-shirt, as if of their own volition, pulling the freelancer closer. A moan escaped his lips as York leaned against him, pinning him to the door, evidence of his arousal pressing into Wash's.  
  
“York,”  
  
The voice seemed to come from miles away, and Wash really wasn't interested in anything that  _wasn't_ York pressing against him and kissing him.  
  
“York.” The voice sounded amused, and annoyed. “You're going to have a hell of a mess to clean up if you don't let him undress first.”  
  
Wash felt York's lips curve into a smile against his, and he opened his eyes as the older agent pulled away. He would have protested, but he his ability to speak had moved out, and hadn't left a forwarding address. He settled for trying to catch his breath.  
  
“Sex 101, huh?” York chuckled, and Washington felt himself blushing again. He opened his mouth, determined to try and say  _something_ , but only managed to make a whimpering squeak as York almost lazily rocked his hips against him then stepped back, though didn't let go of his waist. He pulled, lightly, and Wash managed to co-ordinate putting one foot in front of the other, allowing himself to be led across the small patch of floor to stand between York and North.  
  
“I'm going to go out on a limb here, and guess you haven't done this before,” North said, and tilted Wash's head up when he looked down, scowling, shifting. “Hey, we all have start somewhere. Not everyone was jumping anything with a pulse from puberty.”  
  
“Oi!” York protested. Wash couldn't quite manage a laugh, but he dredged up a sort-of-smile. North traced a light pattern on his cheek, a gentle smile on his lips.  
  
“So, it's nothing to be ashamed of, Wash. Besides,” his smile turned a little darker, making Wash's insides do a triple backflip again. “Teaching is fun.”  
  
“You mean, corrupting.” York slipped his arms around Wash's waist, leaning his chin on the younger agent's shoulder. “Corrupting poor, innocent, Agent Washington.” His breath tickled Wash's ear, and he shivered, rolling his shoulder slightly. “Though, you  _were_  staring at us...”  
  
“But – I –...” Wash's voice ran out of steam not even halfway into the protest, entirely distracted by York nipping down his neck. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, and there was a part of his brain pointing out to him he probably looked like an absolute moron stood with his arms held slightly stiffly away from his body, hands twitching a little.  
  
“Took you long enough to notice, though...” York murmured. “I mean, we've only been making out in the showers when you're there for, what? Two weeks now?”  
  
“Two and a half,” North corrected. “But you spent most of your time staring at the tiling.”  
  
“I – it – I -”  _Hey, brain, connect with vocal cords please._  
  
“I was beginning to think you weren't interested.” York sounded like he was pouting, but Wash couldn't turn his head to check because the other agent was still resting his head on his shoulder. “And, man, that would suck. Because seriously, you're too hot to waste on just the ladies. Y'know, assuming South wasn't chasing everything with tits-”  
  
“York...” North said warningly.  
  
“-and I’m pretty sure Caro doesn't see much outside training.” York finished, as if he hadn't heard North. “But anyway. Back to the task at hand.”  
  
“Indeed,” North gave a quiet chuckle, and brushed his lips over Wash's, a gentle touch so light as to be barely there. Not demanding, not pushing, just – there. As before, Wash found himself just standing there, uncertain and unsure. The kiss was different from York's, was far less frantic and heated. Still unsure, Wash responded, and saw the flicker of a smile in North's eyes as he did so.  
  
 _Maybe this isn't so hard after all?_  
  
Wash regretted the choice of wording his mind came up with, as he was reminded of York's presence by the simple expedient of the other freelancer leaning against his back, pressing him against North. His breath caught in his throat, suddenly  _very_ aware of his body – and of the bodies against it. He closed his eyes, too nervous to meet North's gaze again. He jumped in startlement as he felt a hand on his stomach, and very nearly freaked out until he remembered that York had his arms around him.  
  
 _Like **that's**  normal to think about..._  
  
He felt North smile –  _At least I hope it's a smile and not another goddamn smirk. Not that I’ve ever seen North smirk..._ – and Wash felt his face flushing again, heartbeat speeding up as the hand that had previously been on his stomach began moving further down.  
  
 _Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodoh---_  
  
“Wash.”  
  
He squeaked, opening his eyes, as North broke the kiss.  
  
“Breathe,” the older agent advised, smiling gently. Wash just blinked at him. “If we're going too fast, just tell me.” North continued. “Okay?”  
  
“I – uh –”  
  
“We won't do anything you don't want to. You can trust us.”  
  
“I – uh...” Washington wished he could say something other than “I” or “Uh”, but neither his brain nor his vocal cords seemed willing to cooperate with him. In fact, his brain retreated to its previous litany of ' _Oh God_ ' on repeat as York's hand slipped beneath the waistband of his uncomfortably-tight trousers. He took a deep breath, vaguely aware it was shaking, and blinked in utter confusion as North took one of his hands. Wash was surprised to find both his and North's hands were roughly the same size – or at least it felt like it, anyway.  
  
“You don't have to just stand there, Wash,” North gave him a lopsided smile. “I'm not going to break if you touch me. You can't be any rougher than York, anyway.”  
  
“Hey...” York's grumble was distracted. Wash was pretty distracted, too, as put his hand very lightly on North's chest, not at all surprised to feel the taut muscle beneath the light cotton of the other agent's top. They all had to be in good physical condition to even  _be_ a Freelancer, after all.  
  
“You left bite marks on my shoulder for weeks.” North said dryly, in reply to York's little protest, and pressed his lips to Wash's just as York's hand brushed over the bulge in his pants. Wash wasn't initially sure that the mewling sound was his, but as North gently increased the pressure of his kiss and York began moving his hand, he realised that yes, it really  _was_  him whimpering, hands twisted in the fabric of North's t-shirt, hips twitching slightly with every move of York's hand.  
  
 _Oh **fuck**!_  
  
He moaned, pulling away from the kiss to gasp down a mouthful of air, tilting his head back, eyes closed, and heard an echo of a moan from North. He managed to coordinate one hand, relinquishing the death-grip on North's t-shirt to move beneath it, touch bare skin, and somehow managed a smile at the little gasp that followed his actions. His world narrowed to sound and sensation; his gasps, North's gasps, York's hand moving just that little bit too slowly, teasing him.  
  
“I think you're overdressed.” York's voice was practically a growl, and Wash bit his lip to stop a whine as the freelancer released him and stepped away. He wanted to snap something, but his attention was taken by North quite casually undressing. Washington's mouth dropped open slightly; he had  _never_  been that at-ease with his appearance, or with undressing in company. North, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind at all.  He had to  _know_ that Wash, and presumably York, were watching, but he still looked comfortable.  He looked up and winked at Wash.  
  
“Your turn.” He said, and Wash felt himself going even more red. He opened his mouth, once more searching for words, but none were forthcoming.  
  
“Here, let me help.” York spoke from behind him, and he squeaked in surprise, mentally berating himself for forgetting exactly where the other Freelancer was. He squeaked again as York's hands were around his waist again, tugging his t-shirt up and off, undoing his trousers with more skill than Wash himself generally had. There was an awkward moment of struggling to kick his shoes off whilst they were still tied and York was trying to pull his trousers and boxers off at the same time, Wash growing redder by the second. He got the almost overwhelming urge to cover his crotch with his hands, a feeling exacerbated by North's gaze on him.  
  
Before he had a chance to do much more than begin moving his hands towards his groin, North had crossed the few steps between them, tilted his head up and kissed him, and York was pressed against his back, arms around his waist once more. Wash moaned against North's lips, the sound jumping up an octave as York returned his hand to its previous position. He felt, more than heard, North's moan, felt York chuckle against his neck. He didn't know when he had moved, but he had his fingers tangled in North's regulation-length hair, pulling him closer, eyes tightly closed as York moved his hand agonisingly slowly, thumb occasionally brushing over the head, making him jerk every time he did so.  
  
The kiss was broken in a mutual movement, Wash's head tilting back to rest against York's shoulder as he gasped for breath, loosening the grip of his fingers in North's hair to run down the older agent's body. North groaned softly, and leaned in, kissing down Wash's throat. The younger agent gasped, hips jerking again as York moved his hand ever-so-slightly faster, pleasure making his body feel fuzzy.  
  
“Oh...god...” Washington barely realised he had spoken aloud until York chuckled, close to his ear.  
  
“I'll take that as a compliment, Wash.” He purred.  
  
“You would...” North's voice was breathless, and Wash half-opened his eyes to look at him, curiosity spiking even through the distracting pleasure. The older agent had his head tilted slightly back, watching him, half-smiling.  He started to feel embarrassed, but then York did something with his hand that made pleasure explode through him, the world disappearing as his eyes snapped shut and he arched back, a wordless half-cry escaping his lips.

 “Told you he'd be noisy...” York's voice was amused, and Wash opened his eyes slowly, still shaking with pleasure, and tried to glare. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he was completely unsuccessful. “And cute. And really didn't take you very long, Wash.”

“Wha-?...” It was more a sound than a word, but Wash didn't really care. He attempted to look around at York, but he really was far more comfortable just pressed between him and North. He wasn't actually sure how he was still standing – since his legs felt like jelly – but his pleasure-fogged brain reasoned it probably had something to do with York's arms around his waist. That mild concern sorted, Washington could concentrate on more important things, like the fact he was pressed between York and North.

“You okay, Wash?” North smiled at him when he looked up, and he managed a sort-of-nod in return. “Good.”

“So...” York nuzzled at Wash's neck. “I take it that was okay?” He chuckled. “And hey, that's only lesson one.” He moved his hand slightly, and Wash yelped, making York laugh.

“What did I tell you about teasing him?” North tutted.

“That it's fun and I should do it more often?” York said cheerfully, slowly releasing Wash. The younger freelancer again attempted a glare, but got distracted by the sight of York quite literally swaggering over to the bed and sitting down.

_Oh fuck bed that means sex but then didn't we just – well I did but – oh God I can't think straight..._

Washington nearly snorted at the choice of words in his internal ramble, but was saved from embarrassing himself and having to explain just _why_ he had chosen that point in time to start sniggering by North tugging him lightly over towards the bed as well.

“Top or bottom, North?” York stretched back on the bed, and Wash just had to stare. York had more scars than North did, some more impressive even than the one across his face. Somehow, they added to his appearance, not subtracted.

“Top. Think it's best we keep your mouth occupied.” North said dryly.

_Are they discussing what I think they're discussing?_ Wash wasn't sure whether to feel nervous or just plain petrified.

“Enjoying the view, Wash?” York grinned broadly as he sat up, and Wash felt his face burning again.

“I- uh-” he stuttered, finding his hands moving to cover his crotch as the other freelancer looked him up and down again. As before, he was unable to get very far, North gently propelling him nearer to York, who pulled him down onto the bed beside him. Wash made an embarrassing 'eep' noise, and silently prayed neither North nor York had heard him. He was spared the potential teasing from York by North giving the slightly shorter agent a shove.

“Top drawer, left-hand-side.”

“I know, I know. You're a creature of habit, North, it's always there.” York leaned over and rummaged in the unit beside the bed, and Wash gave up pretending not to be staring. York grinned over his shoulder. “You can touch, y'know. I quite like it.”

“What – I mean – I -...” Wash shut his eyes a second, frustrated with his lack of ability to piece together enough words to form a sentence. _Even one that doesn't make sense would be great right about now!_

He started in slight surprise as North touched his cheek lightly.

“Don't mind York. He's forgotten that not everyone is as tactile as him.” He linked his fingers with Wash's, and the younger freelancer watched as he drew it over and rested it on the small of York's back. “He likes nails,” he murmured in Wash's ear. Wash shivered, hesitantly moving his hand down York's back, guided by North, curling the tips of his fingers downwards slightly so his neatly-trimmed nails dragged against the skin. York made a little noise that made Wash shiver, partly just because the noise was so damn close to a growl and that was just _unbelievably hot_. He did it again, barely taking any notice of the fact that North was no longer guiding his movements, and bit his lip as York really _did_ growl that time, and he felt very much like he wanted to be back sandwiched between the two older freelancers again.

“Quick learner...” York grinned over his shoulder at him, and Wash managed a slight smile in return. If he were honest, he was more than a little distracted by the feel of York's skin under his fingertips, and the odd niggling thought of _I wonder what it feels like under my lips?,_ and was most disappointed when the other agent sat up again, tossing something to North, who caught it with apparent ease.

“You might want to get comfortable, Wash,” he said, leaning in and brushing a light kiss over his lips which left Wash wanting a lot more. Instead of asking (or begging, which he was worried he was coming close to doing) Wash sat more comfortably on the bed, shifting to get nearer the head-end as York nudged him that way. He felt unaccountably jealous as he watched York press himself up against North and kiss him, jealous of how well the two men fit together, how good they looked. Then York turned and got on the bed, crawling up towards Wash, and he nearly completely lost control there and then at the expression he was wearing. 

“Lie down.”

_Oh fuck..._


	4. Lesson Number Two

Wash less 'lay down' and more 'fell down', but the result was the same. He couldn't have done anything other than what he was told, if York continued to speak in that tone of voice. He watched York come closer up the bed towards him, his breathing already heavier, heart pounding with mingled apprehension and excitement.

“Relax, Wash. I don't bite.” York's lips curved into a very toothy grin. “Unless you'd like me to.”

“Uh-” _Yeah, words, no._

“York,” North's voice was amused but slightly warning. “No biting without consent.” He paused. “Actually, no biting at all. Not now, anyway.”

“Spoil all my fun...” York's voice was still a low growl, and he hadn't taken his eyes off Wash, who for his part was doing a passable impression of a goldfish (assuming goldfish could be half as aroused as he was) and staring at the other agents. York inched forward a little closer, and Wash found himself holding his breath, unable to look away. The older Freelancer leaned down, sticking out his tongue in a manner that would have been silly in any other circumstance, and flicked it lightly over the tip of Washington's erection.

Wash squeaked, even though he'd known what was going to happen. Pleasure sparked through him, a completely different sensation than just being touched. His hips jerked slightly, and he flushed, face burning as York chuckled softly.

_I’m acting like a horny schoolgirl, what the actual fuck?_

He was quite impressed he'd managed a full, coherent, thought given the circumstances. Coherency broke down as he watched York lean down once more, the other agent's eyes locked on his, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he ran his tongue across Wash's erection, slower. Wash didn't squeak this time, but a slightly embarrassing little whimper escaped his lips. North might have chastised York for laughing but Washington honestly wouldn't have noticed. He watched, breath hitching in his throat, as North pushed up against York, and the other agent hissed slightly. Wash opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, then decided against it as York followed the hiss up with a quiet groan that made Wash shudder.

_Ohgod that's hot..._

He didn't have much time to reflect on that thought, as York's lips and tongue were around him and his world became narrowed in on the sensation. He managed to keep his eyes on the other two agents for a brief time, watching how North moved against York, eyes half-closed, and how York moved above him, hands pressing him into the mattress – not that he would have moved even if he had been able to. He hardly knew where to put his hands – Wash wanted to touch York but without sitting up he wasn't sure he could reach, and he certainly didn't want York to stop what he was doing.

He could hear himself panting, moaning, gasping, and didn't care. Perhaps earlier he might have been embarrassed at sounding like that, but right now he was completely occupied with what York's tongue was doing to him. He twisted his hands in the sheets below him, arching back as best he could whilst pinned down by the weight of the older Freelancer, and closed his eyes. It seemed as though the sensations grew more pronounced as he did so, the senses of touch and sound heightening as his sense of sight was lost. Every swirl of York's tongue made his hips twitch, pinned though they were, made his breath catch in his throat through the moans and whimpers escaping him. The gasps and groans from the other two agents, which at one time would have made him feel uncomfortable and embarrassed, served only to heighten the pleasure he was feeling.

Time seemed to slow down for him. There was a moment of perfect clarity, a spark of pleasure so intense Wash's eyes flashed open with it, then everything came tumbling down and he cried out, arching up off the mattress, his whole body shuddering with reaction. He couldn't say how long he lay there gasping, limbs trembling. He felt surprisingly comfortable, body buzzing slightly as the pleasure slowly receded, and had no desire to move. It took him a while to realise that there was something warm pressing against either side of him, and he opened his eyes.

_I don't remember closing my eyes again..._

He blinked drowsily, first at the ever-smirking York on one side, and the gently smiling North on the other.

“You okay there, Wash?” North asked him, one eyebrow quirking up slightly. Wash attempted to locate his vocal cords, then gave it up as a bad job and nodded instead. North smiled and brushed a kiss across his lips, which Wash was not at all loath to respond to.

“Aw man, now I’m feeling left out.” Even York sounded a bit sleepy, and when North broke the kiss Wash wriggled a bit so he could regard the other agent. York indeed looked a bit sleepy, and incredibly smug. “I reckon next time we could make you scream, Wash.”

He flushed, looking away, but York turned his head back to face him with a surprisingly soft touch.

“Hey, don't hide. I like that face.” He smiled, and Wash's vocal cords returned enough for him to murmur that it was nice to see something other than a smirk on him. York chuckled, and from behind Wash North laughed properly.

“He smirks so much he's probably forgotten how to smile.” He said teasingly. York stuck his tongue out, then leaned in and kissed Wash.

“That,” he murmured when he broke away. “Is lesson two.”


End file.
